


Lips Like Heroin

by kumjongin



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Love Letters, M/M, POV Second Person, References to Drugs, Slice of Life, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 08:38:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6948190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kumjongin/pseuds/kumjongin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You, the one that makes my heart beat, the one that fills me with a neediness and sensations I cannot describe. In the cool night air, with the wind whipping the rainbow dust particles around the night sky, your face is all I see, coming to me in the cosmos of the night and infiltrating my sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lips Like Heroin

**Author's Note:**

> Written three years ago, transfer from LJ/AFF. Please note that this is in letter format, so it's semi 2nd person.

To you, you know who you are,

You, the one that makes my heart beat, the one that fills me with a neediness and sensations I cannot describe. In the cool night air, with the wind whipping the rainbow dust particles around the night sky, your face is all I see, coming to me in the cosmos of the night and infiltrating my sleep. That smirk that always seems to adorn your lips that always look just-kissed, it swims in my mind all the time. The rain comes down, the clouds build up in pillows of grey, but there is your smile. It breaks through all the darkest shadows and through the thunder.

The first time I saw you, you had that all-too-familiar smirk on your mouth as you spoke to someone, their face has become a blur in my mind. Everything is a fuzz unless it's you. You've taken crystal images and shattered them, only your face the unbroken in a sea of shards. We were in a dimly-lit cafe, the smell of coffee and pastries combining with the mixture of people's colognes and perfumes. At the time I'd wondered which was yours, but now I know, that smell of you I can't forget and would never want to.

I recall working on a paper of some kind, my head bent down illuminated blue by the laptop in front of me, papers scattered over the dark wood of the table. I had been frustrated, at a point where I didn't know how to continue and took a drink of the coffee, letting the darkly sweet flavor roll over my tongue pleasurably as I rolled my eyes upward in irritation. The ceiling was adorned with little twinkles of Christmas lights, hanging down and at the time I'd wished they'd reach down and pull me back up with them, to the haven of the wooden beams and darkness, staring down at the sparks of light. But as my gaze lowered, that's when I first glimpsed you. I sat frozen for a moment, drinking in all of you. Your tousled hair and your too-gorgeous face, mouth curled in a smile at whoever it was you were speaking to spoke. Your charcoal t-shirt obscured by the denim jacket you wore over it, leading to your black, slim-fitting pants and sneakers. 

The language of your body was so flawless, it was relaxed in the way those who are comfortable in their skin are, like nothing in this world could bother you. Whether you spilled your coffee all over the table, or someone crashed into the cafe, or if someone grabbed you and kissed you, nothing would wipe away the relaxed, confident way you held your body or that smirk off your lips. I can't recall, at this point, if those were my thoughts exactly, but somewhere between that stressed out life in a dim cafe and now, this is how I remember you. As the bulls-eye in the middle of a target, the very only thing I could see, the only thing I cared about suddenly, when I'd never even dreamed of shooting the arrow.

Somehow I'm sure you felt my too heavy gaze on you and you turned just slightly to glance in my direction. But that was all it took. Those chocolate eyes, burning with an intensity others' didn't. Most people have flat eyes, only a hint or a sparkle of something else underneath so that you know they are not mannequins. But you, your eyes gleamed and held depth that I could just dive into. All from a glance, and you became my heroin.

Just one drop wasn't enough, I needed to have the full high. From just that glance alone you were in my veins, coursing through me with a heat I didn't know until then. It was numbing, but burning, and it clenched around my heart like a vice. People didn't often have that effect on one another, sure I'd felt my fair share of pangs below the belt and gasps that unexpectedly escape when someone's just so breathtaking. But you were so much more. You were that burning sensation in my pants, the thief inside my lungs to rob me of all capability of breath, but more than that as well, you also punched me in the stomach the way you see something you're destined to have but are afraid it will slip through your fingers.

I couldn't look away from you, even when your gaze returned back to your partner, and every part of me knew I should look away. Knew I needed to get this paper done and needed to let you continue with your conversation without being disturbed by my gaze. I knew this, knew it well, however I just couldn't force my body to cooperate with my mind. If that waitress hadn't walked between our tables, cutting you from my sight for a moment enough top break my trance, I wonder if we'd still be in that suspended state? Your face in a permanent state of partial amusement and your caramel skin frozen in place, and I would just be staring at you, gaze fixed on you forever.

But the waitress walking by brought me out of my reverie, and I dropped my gaze, suddenly feeling rather embarrassed by having stared so much. I wasn't even sure then how much time had passed from when I noticed you. Realistically it could have been only a few minutes, but to me it felt like years. And I would happily have continued for centuries. You always have had a good way of reading me, even then. As I stood, shuffling my things together to escape the cafe, both needing to get away from you and a torn feeling of emptiness at the very thought of not seeing you again, you stood as well, coffee cup in your hand and glanced at me again, shooting me a smile that made my knees weak.

Your teeth so perfect and white I wanted to write sonnets to them, and I wondered how someone already so perfect could be even more so with just a movement of muscles. But you succeeded. You proved to be many things that other people weren't, did things other people couldn't. It was always a lot of fun for you, playing with what you could do and get away with. Well someone as beautiful and charming as you can get away with a lot, save the rest of us from your wrath. Not that any of us mind, we all fall for those brooding eyes and flashing white teeth. That beautiful mouth curved upward, just for me.

And before the reality of your smile had even set in, you were gone.

The next time we met I was coerced into a club by one of my friends, celebrating the end of finals in an increasingly rare display of immaturity. The whole time in the crowded line I complained, saying there were plenty of other ways for us to be spending the evening, but my friend wasn't having it and drug me along inside the club anyway. It was hot and sweaty, and there was an electronic pulse that reverberated throughout the place from all the adrenaline and the techno music blasting from the DJ's station. There was a darkness that spread throughout the club, a sort of background of an abyss that was continually broken by shards of flashing lights and swirling of sounds and faces. It smelled like alcohol, sweat, perfume, and the faint scent of lust and excitement that always seemed to carry into these sorts of places.

But I pasted a smile and went to get a drink anyway, thinking I could just stay there for the remainder of the night and sip sweetly bitter beverages. But you can't let people go with at least not appearing like they're having as much fun as you, can you? My gaze danced along the back of the bar, seeing the array of colored glass lit up by the reflected lights that threw the shards of color back at us. The bottles had a regalia of names and languages splattered across them, the pretty designs that spilled over onto the labels playing with the liquid that poisoned parched throats and kissed away inhibitions.

I was staring down into my drink, a softly colored concoction I was only vaguely familiar the content of when you leaned against the bar and ordered yourself a drink. Now normally, tons of people pass by in a club, and there are voices upon voices ordering all kinds of drinks and yelling things at people as they walk through their lines of vision. There's a lot to hear in a club, and very rarely does anything stick out above the rest, running together in a rhyme and rhythm of highs and lows that were indiscernible but comforting in the way they ran through the building. But yours wasn't just any other voice. It was rich and deep and I could find myself drawn out of whatever reverie I had just been in and glanced up. It hit me in a way that the rest of the symphony of the club didn't manage to do. And there you were, again. And again I had lost my breath and every part of me seized up as it froze on your face.

But you noticed, again. Although I'm sure plenty of other eyes were on you at the time, you let your gaze drift to mine and half your mouth curled into a smirk. Normally the kind of arrogance you carry with you would be immediately unattractive, but on you it felt okay. Or maybe I was willing to just look past it. Either way, somewhere along the way as I watched you, you returned your gaze elsewhere, your body moving slightly but enticingly to the sound of the music, lips mumbling the lyrics. 

The way you were so clearly in your element was fascinating, it was clear that you were familiar with this setting, all the motions of the place seemed to come to you naturally. I wondered if you always captured someone's attention and eyes like you did mine, if you were always someone's object of desire, if you were the heroin for anyone else. I hoped not, the very thought of anyone else seeing you as I did or having you flash that smile at someone else made my throat feel like it was closing, a lump forming slightly. You weren't mine, I had no real reason to feel so powerfully for anyone else being there, but I was already set on you. On everything about you, I didn't want it to be exposed to everyone else and I didn't want it to be on display. Seeing the bouncing flashes of light off of your skin and hair was almost hypnotizing, but I snapped myself out of it this time. I uttered a small 'hello,' but it was swallowed into the sounds of the club.

So I tried again, licking my lips to re-moisten my mouth in hopes I could speak again. “Hi,” I said. Just a simple greeting, but I wasn't sure if anything else would have been fitting or could I have said.

But you'd heard me, of course. From the very beginning we were connected. You never believed it when I said that, but that's the only way I can explain it. Because you turned back to me and gave an almost imperceptible nod, “Coffee shop, right?” you asked, having to lean in just a bit to be heard over all the surrounding noises.

You leaning in just so slightly was enough, though, I could feel myself warm slightly at the subtle knowledge you'd willingly gotten closer and that you spoke such honey words just for me. Although to anyone else or for anyone else they may not have been special, but to me they were everything. You remembered me, you knew my gaze from other people's and you saw past them just for me. The words, just for me and all mine. My own words choked in my throat again, my cheeks feeling a bit more hot than before and I was grateful the lights were flashing over us anyway so you couldn't see me blush. I nodded as well, with a slightly shy smile and offered my hand, introducing myself to you. It was bold for me, at least in comparison to the way I'd been acting around you.

A smile for the bartender as you took the drink in one of your beautiful hands, an amber colored liquid, and you turned again to look at me, glancing at the offered hand. “I didn't know people actually shook hands anymore,” you mused but shook my hand and said your name.

And that was it. I was hooked, where before I had just gotten a small taste of it, just enough to test out and plant the little seeds of want. My heroin had been injected, straight into my veins and there was no recovering the needle any more. It was broken off and buried somewhere in my vein where it would sting and press painfully against me every time I moved, but it had to be there. After this, there was no surgery that could recover it. No words and no actions that could get me into rehab, or get me to put down the spoon long enough to let you go. I wonder if you felt it like I did. Our hands lingered probably a moment longer than was socially correct, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I just wondered if it was me who kept hanging onto you for longer than was necessary, or if neither of us really wanted to let go.

Because then you asked me if I wanted to join you on the dance floor. Maybe it was customary for people to ask this of people they met at the bar, I still don't know, nor do I know why I agreed. I am not the type to dance, my nature kept me reserved and my nose in a book for a majority of the time. But the heroin that is you makes me bold, makes me break out of my comfort zone and into yours. The songs were fast and the beat was infectious, just as one would expect of a place serving to people's hedonistic pleasures. It was its own little drug to some, sucking away at people's souls and feeding them a little bit of pleasure here and there, a sense of escape fueling into all of the mundane lives. Just for a little while, everyone was beautiful and everything was enjoyable. Everything was made to be a shattered glass image of debauchery and escape, a Sodom and Gomorrah for the modern day.

Your body moved with a magic all its own, as if you were designed for this beat and this club and this situation. There was an elegance to your dancing even if it wasn't exactly the type of dancing most people consider elegant. But there was fluidity and confidence in you, in every action you took. It was just another edge to your beauty, and I wondered what it was you could do that was ever wrong, if there was anything about you that wasn't beautiful and wasn't the absolute ideal of perfection. Although it wasn't long since I'd first laid eyes on you, I could immediately tell you were one of those people. You were just so captivating, and I wondered again if everyone thought of you as such. I had a hard time imagining people not loving you, wanting your attention and your gazes all the time, but I also hated that knowledge. I was selfish and unashamed. I wanted to be the only on who found you perfect, my own little point of elegance and wonder inside the chaos of my head.

I was not a strong dancer, still aren't really, but you didn't seem to mind or notice. I was all clumsy moves and a certain rigidity that I knew was awkward but I couldn't force myself out of it. I was shy at the best of times, and around you I was just so shell-shocked I couldn't function properly. My heroin was my numbness, taking me away from the functions of the world for a little while to only see you. At one point you put your hand on my hip with a smile, enticing me to join you and let loose in my skin and in the flashing rainbow of light surrounding us. They painted us in brilliant colors, but none of them matched your vibrancy to me. Everything about you was a piece of art. Your touch sent a thrill through me, and I wanted so much more of it, that I was willing to do however you instructed me.

And that was the first time I went home with you.

I am not the type to go with someone I just met, but your toxicity got into me and I couldn't remove your poison. I didn't want to, just wanted that poison to burrow deeper inside me and not let go until I was turned to dust. Everything about your touch was what had been buried in the back of my mind, every caress of hot skin and the tender way you took your time with me even though I was just someone you picked up in some club. And I don't know how many people there had been before me, but it didn't matter. Still doesn't, I suppose.

There was your smell, a musky scent combined with the pungent alcohol on your breath, and the underlying soap on your skin I could taste when I pressed hot kisses to your tanned shoulders. The room was quiet except for the sound of our heavy breathing and the slapping of skin, the darkness surrounding us in a blanket that spread to every corner. It was painful, at first, but you made everything worth it and turned it into something wonderful. Just like you turned everything into something wonderful, at least for me you did. And seeing your face above me, your lips parted in ecstasy and your eyes half-lidded, it felt like I could almost overdose on the heroin of you again.

The movements of your hips and your body were just like the way you danced, there was a natural rhythm and cadence that was alluring and exciting. It drew sounds and words from my mouth that I didn't know were waiting to escape, words that spilled into the darkness just for you in soft utterances of your name. I took all you gave me, just wanted every part of you to myself so that I could cherish it in my mind and in my body. If giving myself to you was what it took to let you know how much you were to me, then so be it, I was willing to pay that price and I was willing to give anything just so long as I could have another little piece of you. That's what you continually left me, little pieces to make up the entire image. I'd like to say I see the entire image, but I still don't have enough of those pieces to have the fully fledged cut-out, only the outline and a few pieces here and there that make up your whole.

After, you pressed your plush mouth to mine tenderly and came to rest next to me, and I savor the image even now of you laying there on my bed. Your hair a mess and clinging to your forehead in sweat-laden clumps, your cheeks starting to drain of the pink tint earned from your effort, your tan skin damp from sweat and there had never been a more beautiful image. A soft smile, and you put your arm around me as you closed your almond eyes. It was all I could want from you, those gentle touches and the warmth of you that spread around and pulled at me. My own little paradise inside your arms.

But you weren't there when I got up. The bed was cold and empty when my eyes fluttered open and saw you weren't there. Memories rushed around me like locusts, but they couldn't summon you. Not your physical form, but only the cosmic memories I had of you, the bite mark you'd left on my neck and your dried come on my skin. That was all I had of you. It wasn't enough, and I wanted to have the real you again. I wanted to feel the arm around me and your hot breath against my skin and smell the sweet musk of your skin.

And I didn't know how I could possibly go on without your face next to me. As soon as you had gone, all I'd wanted was you to be back with me. In my arms again and whispering into my ear with all of your deep words, growling out your pleasure into the still night as you bring us both the pleasure of you. All I could think about was having you again. But I hadn't gotten your number, and I hadn't gotten a way of getting in contact with you again. There was no note, there was nothing to remember if only I could forget. Though I didn't want to forget.

You were all I wanted to remember. You still haunt my thoughts and make my life a hazy blur swimming in the clouds. Thoughts of you are a fog, lining the cold dark streets with your smirks and half-lidded gazes. A fog I never wanted to dissipate.

Wherever I went, there were flashes of you. In the shape of someone's broad shoulders as they walked away from me, just like I always imagined you doing. In the way someone's hair looked, shaggy and black, framing their faces that couldn't compare to yours. Tan expanses of skin that were never as unmarred as yours. As often as I tried seeing you in all places, that's exactly where you never were.

Until you showed up again. It was right before the new semester was beginning, and I'd taken the dog belonging to my parents to the park. The sun was shining, bright and warm as it bathed over the green lawn and reflected from the bleached out pavement. The little white dog hopped along the path, and I remember smiling a little to myself before letting my eyes roam over the park itself, the warm smelling like the freshly cut grass the little old man always took care of and the excitement the little kids faced over the prospect of a new day. And you started out as a smudge somewhere along the way, just a black and tan smudge that I didn't pay much attention to.

But as you got nearer, walking along with a tall guy who smiled far too often and made dumb-looking faces. His hair bounced all over his head as he walked along in an awkward gait. It was almost amusing, if only I could look away from you. From the way the two of you walked and joked around with one another, I could tell you were close, as you carried your skateboards under your arms. Your shirt was white that day, I remember well because the sun reflected off it and was almost blinding. Almost as blinding as it was off your teeth when you smiled. That rare, beautiful smile that showed your flawless teeth and made your face light up. And the way it contrasted so beautifully with your skin, that creamy caramel which looked even more rich from the way the sun bathed over you.

I shuffled away awkwardly with my dog, torn between wanting to be noticed by you and wanting to hide away behind the vision of the sun. It wasn't really you I didn't want to be noticed by, there was nothing more that I craved in fact, but your friend. My thoughts raced with the fear of what people would think of you acknowledging me in any way. I was sure they'd mock, wonder what someone as beautiful as you would be doing with someone like me? I was no prize, but you seemed to enjoy me plenty. But other people would not have the same notions as you or the prior knowledge.

Luck has never been an asset to me, so as you passed, me looking up at you both through the cover of my bangs, you glanced over. The connection still bonded us, you hadn't lost it somehow when I'd given myself to you. And again, that forsaken smirk came to you and you picked up a hand, halting in your steps. Your friend walked on a few more steps, still talking too loudly before he noticed you'd stopped and doubled back, shooting me a smile and inquiring in a way I'm sure he imagined was subtle who I was.

You broke the contact and glanced at him. “Someone I know,” is all you said before you took two steps closer. Normally I cannot recall anything but you, but your friend stood out to me enough to break the kaleidoscope glass. Because I felt so exposed to his eyes, waiting for the look of judgment to appear or the mocking roll of his eyes. It was the first time I'd seen you with someone directly, and it made me uncomfortable. They had more pieces of you, they got to hear more of your sugar words than I did, and I didn't like the thought of that. I just hoped you weren't his heroin as well. But a part of me was fearful, that he would see me as some sort of challenge to your attention. Even though I didn't know if he even wanted you attention as much as I did. But that wasn't fair. Why would someone who didn't care about your presence get so much more of it than I did? Someone who felt addicted to seeing you, craved the beauty of you and the awash of perfection you carried into my life. 

“Hey, how's it going?” you asked lightly, your voice still rich and deep and those lovely tones brought back so many memories of our time together. You looked friendly, and I couldn't discern any underlying meaning in your eyes although I wanted to. But I wasn't able to look at you full-on, unable to take in all of you at once for the fear of seeing something I couldn't take.

I shuffled a little in my spot and smiled shyly at you, holding onto the leash tightly, my throat suddenly feeling dry. I choked out a hello and licked my lips, glancing to your friend who was yawning down at the ground. “I'm good...how are you?” I asked, wanting to savor every amount of time I spent with you.

It was like a delicacy being around you. Something I wanted to take only the tiniest taste of so that it would last and be drawn out before I could regret the consumption. It was something to let melt over my tongue with warm sweetness and let sit in my mouth before swallowing all the richness. 

With a small nod, you flashed a smile at me, your heart-stopping face making my breath catch again. “Glad to hear it. I'm fine,” you said and looked around a little nervously, at least if I read correctly. You hadn't seemed as comfortable as you had only a moment before. You glanced back to your friend, though I kept my gaze trained on the sharp angle of your tan jawline as you twisted. A hand motion to him I didn't catch and you turned back with another heart pounding smile. I couldn't take those, they made me feel dizzy every time, and yet I also wanted so many more of them and so much more in general from you.

“Well I need to get going. We should get together sometime,” were the words, but you had already turned away from me. 

They were caught on the swift breeze and blew back into my face, but it wasn't the same as if you'd spoken them to me directly, they were faded by wind. They needed to be words pressed up against my ear, your hot breath tickling my skin. But it wasn't the case, and you already were turned around. Which made a pang appear in my stomach, but I ignored it. You didn't seem to savor the moments with me as much as I did you, but I was alright with that. I knew that it was a bit different, you were my drug and I'm not sure what I was to you.

But something occurred inside of me. I couldn't stand the thought of you just turning away and seeing the retreating form. 'We should get together,' that was almost a promise. And that was a promise I would not, could not, let go unfulfilled. So I called out your name, softly as though I didn't trust my own voice. And I probably didn't.

But it worked, you and your friend both turned around to look at me, but I closed in on your face. That was all that mattered, that I had your attention right then and you would listen to me if I told you something. Which was different because it always felt like you had the upper hand. Always a hold over me. “What's your number?” I managed to get out, the little dog pulling on the leash.

I saw you glance at the other person, and I pushed away any thoughts about what you could have whispered before you yelled out your number. I immediately seared it onto my memory, branding myself with the information I knew about you. The numbers danced inside my head and I gave a nod, waiting until you'd turned around to start your jokes with the friend before digging my phone out to write your information into it. A surge of pleasure went through me and wanted to call you then and there, just to hear that voice again. Hear it just for me.

Getting up the courage to actually talk to you, though, that was a different story. I reminded myself every night it shouldn't have been awkward. We'd had sex, we'd been intimate in the closest way and yet I couldn't seem to make myself send you a text with the word 'hey' until I'd downed a shot or more of alcohol. After, unfortunately, I hadn't accounted for the fact that alcohol makes your brain fuzzy and makes things difficult to remember. Because only bits and pieces come to me now in the aftermath, along with what I can manage to get from the text messages.

Essentially after I got the nerve to text you...you actually responded. I almost didn't expect you to, and then I would be wallowing on the couch here still in a drunken bliss of shame. You then invited me to a party you were attending, though I'm still not sure why you thought that was a good idea. I guess because one of our meetings was in a club? None the less, I am not the partying type but since it is you, and the list of things I wouldn't do for you is far lesser than those I would, I went. I remember putting on some of my nice clothes that would flatter me well, but I think I can vaguely remember not wanting to impress too much because that came across as needy.

The flashes begin after I was dressed, since I had to have a few more drinks of the searing alcohol to manage to give me the courage I would need. None of my friends were even aware I was going somewhere, which wasn't the smartest idea, but with you there was only the bullseye. Only that target I hoped to reach somewhere in the middle of a target that always seemed to be moving away. So caution went to the wind and you became the ground.

I recall going to a house, it was white and large and loud, a presence in the middle of a street that was a bit startling. The house took up so much room and I remember expecting the house to be alive. My expectations have always been a little too high for realistic society, but you know that. But if you don't dream big and think big, then you could never see the clouds and your were stuck somewhere in the middle of the stale air as it just circulated around you.

There is a memory of people, a lot of people, pushing against me and I almost felt like I was being crushed by them. I don't know why my mind chose to occupy my memory space with people in a busy party, there are countless scenes just like that. But none of them were you. You were all I wanted to remember. If my memory was filled with only those brief thoughts of you, then I would be content. The first memory of that night when I saw you, you were leaned against the counter drinking something out of a red plastic cup.

The memory still strikes me. You looked so beautiful and casual, your posture relaxed as you chatted with someone I don't recall. I'm not sure where I was to have seen you this way, looking so comfortable in this setting and I wasn't sure if it was the drink or if that was just you. But from the knowledge I had of you, everything you did had a certain calmness and cool confidence in everything you did that also continually drew me and everyone else to you.

I don't remember approaching you, I don't remember much of what we spoke of. It was something about small talk and about the people at the party I didn't know but pretended to. People are all the same anyway, everyone but you. The splash of vibrant red in the stone grey roses. I don't think I learned much about you, at least a part of me hopes I didn't. Because I cannot recall anything about the words you formed with your full lips, only that the sound coming from them was music to me, your deep rasp something I wanted to just curl up and bathe in. And all the words just for me.

Somewhere along the way, you were leading me through the dark halls of the house, where the sounds were more muffled from the rest of the house. The memory of getting there is faded, but soon enough your mouth was on me again and you were bathing me in your lust and I was all too receptive. I only wanted to feel more of you, the burning desire running through me so intensely.

This time you weren't as gentle, but it was as wonderful as it was before. Because you'd picked me. I knew with your looks and the blasé attitude you carried on you that it wouldn't be hard to find someone interested, but it was me that you chose. And that was something I couldn't deny, although I questioned up and down why you'd choose someone like me, I wasn't going to question you, I was just glad to be receiving any kind of affection from you. When you reached that point of beautiful no return, your eyes closed and teeth clenched, jaw working slightly and beads of sweat running down your neck, I wanted to capture that forever. That look was one I could bring you to, one that you were able to achieve because of me and that filled me with a small sense of pride and a sense of wonder at how someone could be so attractive in all that they do. You were too perfect.

But I don't remember anything after that either. Somehow I got home, and I hold a small flame of hope that you were the one to make sure I got to my residence safely. Although I don't know for sure, that's what I like to believe. After, though, when I realized you were gone again and my roommate shook their head at me, saying you were only using me before walking away, I couldn't take it.

I snapped, because to be honest with you, and you are one of the only people I can ever be so honest with, is that I had not taken my medication in a while. You had become the medication, the self-medication of my heroin that I didn't want to lose and couldn't, but other people seemed to think that the drug of you just wasn't enough to keep away the terrors. I tried convincing everyone that you were all I needed. If I was with you, I was fine, and the memories of you kept me alright. But my roommate shouldn't have said those things. They hurt me down to the marrow as I began to hear things I didn't want to, began to listen to the urge that told me I didn't deserve you and I didn't need to keep wasting everyone's precious time. Because you are perfection, you can absolutely get by without me. I wish this wasn't true, but I know it is.

I really don't want to go into the details of what happened, because you are probably already startled receiving this letter describing how I felt about you those different times. But I'll say simply this: I tried hurting myself because I couldn't bear the thought that you didn't feel for me as I did for you. And although any other time I would have convinced myself of the opposite, my feelings were too out of balance at the time. And your memory was fresh in my mind, though I wanted to see you in so many other ways, and I wanted you to think of me like I did you. But I thought that was impossible, because why would you like someone as messed up as I? It's a question I still raise, unsure why you would care for me. Unlike my roommate, though, I will not believe that you were using me. What we had was more than just two people getting together for sex. We were special, had a connection.

And now it is probably crossing your mind why you are receiving this letter. Well, I'm in a treatment facility of sorts and the only thing worth thinking about in here is you. So I've dedicated some time to writing you. It's also a part of my therapy, I'm supposed to get out my feelings by writing to you. But without you the ants are crawling in my skin, they itch and they burn for the craving of you and your skin, the desire and want of hearing your voice again and your voice calling out to me. I want it to be your voice that asks if I'm alright, the one that makes sure I'm taking care of myself. I just wish you could be the one to care as much as I do. I know you care, that I am not someone you were just using. Now that I'm calm again I don't know how anyone ever managed to convince me of otherwise. We had a bond. The drug cannot leave the addict, I'll go through all the hell I must endure if it means just getting back to you. Because I need it in my life and I don't want to let it go. They want me to get better, but how can I get better if you aren't here to get better for? You're all I want and all I need and I am sure of that, more than I ever have been of anything. I cannot live without my heroin, a life's not worth living if I can't just have you. If I can't have the one thing keeping me going and driving me to live...what's the point? 

But I'm unsure if you will get this letter, or even if you do if you will read it. But you aren't that way. Things mean something to you, I'm sure of it. As sure as anything. And maybe if you get this, and read it through until the end...then maybe you could write me back. It's just a thought. Because I can assure you that I will see you again. I'll be getting out of here and I'll be needing my heroin once again. You'll be the craving I never want to lose.

So I will find a way to make you mine again, I will find that way to keep you and to make you need me as much as I need you. That's something you can count on, something you can almost bet your life on.

Sincerely,

Me

**Author's Note:**

> So...I don't really write KaiSoo very much anymore, but I still like this story so here it is.


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